Firstfruits
by mywildimagination
Summary: For the past eleven years, Edward Elric has been raising his family and recovering from the Promised Day. Some memories are easier to talk about than others, but he's made his peace with them. Of course the one that comes back to haunt him is the one he tried to forget about completely. M rating is for rape content - the rape is alluded to, not shown.
1. Chapter 1

Nora Durden was one of Winry's many patients, but she'd be the one the Elric family could never forget - however much they would want to. She was in her early thirties when East City's health care system referred her to Rockbell Automail. She'd just recovered from a severe illness that had infected her right leg bad enough for it to be amputated. She'd opted for automail, and Winry had opted to be a subsidized care provider.

Ed had opted to help pick Ms. Durden up from the train station, like he did with many of Winry's patients. As she maneuvered her wheelchair onto the platform, Winry saw a flash of recognition pass across Ed's face.

Ms. Durden seemed to recognize him, too. "Hey, soldier boy," she said with a smile. It was a sweet expression, framed by her brown hair. "You sure grew up handsome."

Winry, who'd had people flirt with Ed in front of her before - though usually not her clients, or in such a bold way - casually asked, "You two know each other?"

Winry was also used to Ed being completely oblivious to come-ons. But at Ms. Durden's words he paled. To Winry's surprise he said, "I'm sorry, but you must have me mixed up with someone else. I don't know you."

With a smirk Ms. Durden said, "You must have forgotten - but I'm sure I can jog your memory."

Ed didn't answer her. Stone-faced, he turned to Winry and said, "I'm going to start the car."

That left Winry to escort her patient through the train station, which Winry would do graciously - despite how terribly uncomfortable said patient had made her husband. (Said husband had better explain later.) They made small talk about Risembool. Ms. Durden had grown up in a similar town that she was sure was deserted now.

"Too many men died in the war with Aerugo," she told Winry. "People just started drifting away after that."

Winry nodded. "I know what you mean. This town got hit hard during the Ishvalan genocide. It's hard to come back from something like that."

"Genocide?" Ms. Durden asked. "People don't usually call it that."

Winry shrugged. She'd stopped calling it the 'eastern conflict' many years ago. "That's what it was. There's no point in trying to hide it."

"I guess so."

Ed pulled up with the car then. It was a cheap model, but Winry had revamped the interior and suspension so the ride up the dirt road would be as smooth as possible for her patients. Ed made no conversation as he helped Ms. Durden into the back seat, and she didn't try to talk to him either. That wasn't abnormal - amputees were usually awkward about needing help doing things they'd done easily before - but their earlier interaction made Winry sensitive to it. She noticed how Ed tried to touch her as little as possible, that he'd avoided eye contact with Ms. Durden since she'd gotten off her train. He was tense in a way he rarely was outside their bed, when he first woke up in the morning. No matter what kind of dreams he had (and the nightmares had subsided some over the years), Ed often woke up heavily alert, jumpy, and on edge. Winry had long since learned not to touch him when he got like that, because it would trigger reflexes he had no control over. Instead she'd wait for his heart rate and breathing to slow. It usually took a few minutes for that to happen, though, and Winry wasn't sure how long it would take for him to recover now.

After Ed shut the car door, she stood next to him and asked, "Will you hand me the keys? You don't look like you're good to drive." She had to keep her voice even, because if she spoke too loudly or too softly, it might upset him.

Ed was taking ragged breaths, trying to control his breathing. "I'm fine," he said. "I'm fine."

He obviously wasn't, but saying so wouldn't help anything. "You will be," Winry told him. "Just let me drive us back to the house."

After a moment, Ed sighed and reached into his back pocket. The drive home was quiet, but Ed seemed calmer by the time they got there. Winry made sure to get to Ms. Durden's side before he did, since touching her seemed to bother him so much. It wasn't too much trouble to lift her patient, though it had probably been easier for Ed. Granny came out to meet their patient then, and once they were inside Winry left Granny to explain the procedure to Ms. Durden.

She took Ed aside and told him, "I can hold off surgery for awhile if you need some time to yourself." He usually kept the kids busy while she and Granny were operating. At the moment they were playing behind the house, and their four-month-old was due to wake up from a nap soon.

Ed shook his head. "I'm okay now," he said. "Really. Playing with the kids helps me feel better anyway."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

He took her hand, and Winry pulled him into a hug. As much as physical contact spooked him during these panic attacks, Ed sure craved it afterwards. She wanted to ask him what exactly had triggered the attack, but she didn't think now was a good time. The baby's cries from upstairs only confirmed that.

"I'll get her," Ed said. "There's still plenty of milk in the icebox, right?"

"Granny said she'd have a bottle ready," Winry reminded him. "It should be on the counter."

"Right." Ed kissed her quickly. "I'll see you later." And with that he was upstairs.

It really wasn't fair, Winry thought as she joined Granny. Ed had defeated so many demons - what right did they have to bother him long after they were gone?

* * *

Ed put his two youngest children to bed first. His two-year-old, Andar, and baby Izumi were the only ones who came close to breaking his and Winry's rules for naming their children. Specifically, their rule against naming them after any dead people they knew. There'd been too many for them to name all their kids after. Andar was named for a dead guy Ed had only met through his father's journals, and Ed's very much alive teacher was more than honored to have Ed's youngest named after her. Once the little ones could be left in their respective cradles, Ed tiptoed out the nursery door.

He had to remind his two oldest children, Henry and Ellen, to stay quiet. He picked up Ellen, who'd been chasing her brother down the hall, and asked if she'd brushed her teeth.

"Do I have to?"

"Yes," Ed answered. "You don't want to have stinky breath, do you?"

"I do," she said just to be stubborn.

"Gross," said Henry.

"You're gross!"

"Shh." Ed put a finger to her lips. "Don't wake up the babies." He set her down in the bathroom. "Now brush your teeth, or you're not getting a bedtime story."

"No fair," said Henry. They shared a room and usually got the same bedtime story. "Why do I have to not get a bedtime story just because she doesn't want to brush her teeth?"

"Then make sure she does," Ed told him.

When the two of them were finally in pajamas with brushed teeth, Ed held up his end of the bargain. "What story do you want tonight?" he asked them.

Ellen said, "Tell us about the priest who transmuted his arm together with a gun!"

"No, the Devil's Nest," said Henry.

"Let's go with the Devil's Nest," Ed said. Winry wouldn't be happy if she knew he'd mentioned that particular detail about Father Cornello. He regretted telling them that himself.

Ed had never planned to tell his kids about his adventures. Most of them were actually state secrets he was forbidden by law to tell. But one night Ellen refused to have any of the usual books read to her. "Tell me a different story, Daddy," she'd demanded, and he'd told her about how the youngest state alchemist and his armor brother bought the Youswell mine with fake gold.

Every night after that was another request for 'the little alchemist,' a title Ed begrudgingly started using. It sounded better anyway, more like a kids' story. Ed never called any of the characters in his stories by name, mostly so he could have deniability in case his stories ever reached the wrong ears.

But it was also strangely cathartic for Ed, talking about what had happened to him as if he were an outsider. It made the emotions associated with it less raw, somehow, and he could process what had happened rather than push it all away. Even the most disturbing parts, which Ed left out, lost some of their ability to unsettle him. Telling these stories was more helpful than Ed ever could have guessed.

"The little alchemist and his brother were visiting their alchemy teacher," Ed began, "when the little alchemist remembered that he needed to renew his state alchemist certification. While he was gone, the armored brother got kidnapped by some very strange people. One was part cow. Another was part dog."

"And there was a snake lady!" Ellen added.

"That's right," said Ed. "She helped capture the armored brother by s-s-slithering" - his hands slipped over their bedcovers like snakes, and the room filled with their laughter as he tickled them - "inside his armor. They wouldn't have been able to catch him otherwise, he was too fast and too good a fighter. They took him to their lair -" Ed cut off, distracted by the bedroom door swinging open.

"Mom!" said Henry. "You finished the port surgery?"

"Yes," Winry said as she came and knelt by his bed. "I just came to kiss you good night, and then your dad and I need to talk about something."

"But Dad's not done with our bedtime story," Ellen protested.

"Can't he finish it first?" asked Henry.

Winry conceded, and Ed was relieved. She probably wanted to ask him about what had happened earlier, and he wasn't sure how he was going to explain to her. And anyway, he suspected she liked hearing these stories as much as the kids did.

He was tempted to drag the story out as long as possible, but it was hard to draw up details since he hadn't been there for most of it. He wasn't the type to remember a lot of details anyway. So he continued telling the story the way he usually did.

"Then the fuhrer showed up," he told them, "and killed the homunculus and all the chimera. He said he would kill the little alchemist too if he had shared any information with Greed. But the little alchemist hadn't, so the fuhrer let them go."

"So it was good the little alchemist got mad and broke the deal with Greed," Henry said sleepily.

"Yes," said Ed. "But it was sad because Greed didn't like the other homunculi. It would've been good if the little alchemist could have learned more from him." Ed could never tell this story without missing the Greed that had shared Ling's body. Ed hadn't spent much time with him, but he'd been a good friend.

"All right," said Winry. "Story's over. Time for sleep." They kissed the children good night, and once they were settled she led Ed down the hall to their own room.

Ed let out a breath as he closed the door behind him. He didn't feel ready for this conversation, but Winry wasn't likely to let him out of it. When he finally turned to look at her, she seemed to be bracing herself as well.

"Ed," she began, "you know that I trust you, right?"

That wasn't what he expected her to say. "Yeah?"

"It's just - Ms. Durden said some things when she was coming out from under, and I wouldn't be asking you about it if you two didn't recognize each other earlier, and it's not like people just make up those kinds of things when they're drugged, not like that - I just -"

Ed's stomach felt like it was sinking in. "What did she say?" he asked.

Winry looked away from him. "Nothing I want to repeat," she said. "But she made it clear that she'd slept with you."

She thought he'd cheated on her. It wasn't like that, but it was - god, it was shameful. How was he supposed to tell her? And if she didn't take it well -

Winry rested a hand on his shoulder. "I just want to hear it from you. Whatever it is, we can work it out. Okay?"

Ed let out a breath. He said, "I should've told you years ago. I just haven't ever been able to talk about it. I don't like to even think about it."

She'd been telling him for years that that wasn't a healthy way of dealing with bad things, but instead of repeating it now, she just looked at him expectantly. Ed continued, "It was before the Promised Day. I was with Greed, and we went through this town in the middle of nowhere. She let us stay at her inn, just asked us to do some things for her - chop firewood, stuff like that - and we hadn't slept in beds for weeks, so we said yes. She kept talking about how all the men were fighting with Aerugo - thought we were deserted soldiers, which was close enough to the truth. And, well, I was glad she included me in that, even though I didn't look like your average soldier."

Winry smiled softly. "She flattered you."

"I just thought she was nice, then. Because of that. Anyway, we all slept in separate rooms, it was nice to have some personal space for once, and we were dead beat. I guess I was sleeping really deeply, so I - I didn't realize . . ." He took a deep breath, bracing himself. "I woke up with her on top of me."

Winry gasped. "Oh my god."

"I pushed her off me, I _did_ , but she was - and I'd already -"

"You don't have to tell me any more," Winry said, her voice wavering. "Not if you don't want to."

Dammit, how many times did he have to make her cry over him? "I'm sorry, Winry," he said.

"No," Winry said firmly. She met his eyes with a steely, albeit wet, look. "You have nothing to be sorry about. None of this is your fault."

"I should've told you earlier."

"It doesn't matter. You've told me now. I know it can be hard for rape victims to come forward."

Ed winced. "I'm not -"

"If a man had done to a woman what she did to you, would you call it anything else?"

Ed didn't know how to feel about that. He had impressions of rape victims in his mind - pictures of broken, helpless women - that he couldn't imagine applying to himself. He'd always thought of that incident as having let his guard down at the wrong time, with the wrong person. It was yet another mistake he'd made, another nightmare of the many he'd spent years trying to leave behind.

Winry crossed her arms and glared at the wall. "She can't stay here," she said. "You shouldn't have to be around her."

That was fine with Ed, but - "She just had port surgery. She won't be able to go anywhere for a few days."

"I don't care," said Winry. "We can find someone to look after her. But I shouldn't be treating her anymore, it wouldn't be ethical." Ed saw her hands clench and her eyebrows knit together. "I can't believe she had the gall to talk to you that way after what she did. If she weren't a patient I'd -" She groaned angrily. "I'd be willing to recant the Hippocratic oath if it meant I could beat her bloody."

"Winry -"

"Or I could let you do the smacking. Would that help you feel better?"

"No." The answer surprised Ed. He usually had no problem roughing up people who'd betrayed his trust. But that woman was - he didn't know how to feel about her.

It was just as well, he figured. Winry would never actually carry out her threat, though the sentiment behind it was real. Ed was just glad it wasn't him she was angry at.

Winry sighed. "I'm sure Pitt will take care of her until she's ready to travel. I'll call him right now." Ed moved out of the way so Winry could open the door. She stepped out into the hallway and turned back to look at him. "It'll be okay, Ed. She'll be gone tomorrow, one way or another."

For the rest of the night, Ed took comfort in that. That woman would be out of his life forever, and he'd be one step closer to forgetting what she had done to him.

If only it would turn out to be true.


	2. Chapter 2

Winry suspected discharging Ms. Durden would be an unpleasant experience. The woman might not have been accustomed to having things go her way, but she sure made a stink about them when they didn't. She'd expected the surgery table to be better cushioned, and had no inhibitions about letting the Rockbells know it. She ate the potato Winry thrust into her hands that morning and commented that she thought the produce would be fresher "out here." As if it were practical to have a surgery table with give to it or for Winry to grow her own potatoes.

So Winry had no compunction to be gentle when she broke the news to her. "You're leaving today," she said. "You're going to finish your recovery with our local doctor, and then you'll find another mechanic to install your prosthetic."

"You've got to be joking. You're kicking me out just because your husband had his fun with me all those years ago?"

"You call _rape_ fun?" Winry snapped.

"Good God. Is that what he told you? And you _believed_ it?"

"Of course I -" Winry bit off the rest of her reply. She didn't have to explain herself to this woman. She just had to get her out.

Thinking she'd gotten a little victory over Winry, Ms. Durden said, "You should know by now not to expect so much from men. They'll do what they want with you, then leave you with nothing but another mouth to feed."

Winry's retort came out strained - she didn't want to shout and let that woman know she'd gotten to her. "You don't know Ed. He's better than that."

"Oh please," said Ms. Durden. "He's already done it to me. He stayed one night and left me with one baby. He might get a few more babies out of you, and then he'll divorce you for someone younger and prettier. That's how it works."

Winry froze. "You have a kid? And it's Ed's?"

"What's it to you?"

"Is it true?"

Ed stepped in the doorway, and Winry's eyes widened as they fell on him. She didn't know he'd been listening.

Ms. Durden seemed surprised too, but she covered it up with a smirk. "So you do care," she told Ed. "Or at least you pretend to. You want to know about your daughter?"

Ed took on that same stony manner he'd had at the train station. He asked, "Where is she? Who's been taking care of her?"

"I have," said Ms. Durden, and then, "Oh, you mean since I got sick? Not that I'd expect you to care about that, either."

Winry fumed at the obvious guilt trip. "Just tell him where she is," she spat at her.

"You already know!" Ms. Durden shot back. "Or at least I assume my home address is included in my medical records."

"And she's there by herself?" asked Ed.

She shrugged. "Peder might still be there. But Annaliese can take care of herself all right."

Winry didn't really want to know who Peder was. But if he was Ms. Durden's boyfriend, did that mean she expected him to leave her like she said all men did? Or had she just been manipulating Winry when she said that?

The important thing was, Ed had another daughter. Annaliese was a pretty name, it would sound good next to Elric - but Winry was getting ahead of herself. Annaliese wasn't guaranteed to take on Ed's name. She didn't even know him. And that had to be killing Ed, since he'd always made such a point of being there for his kids.

Ed said, "She's going to be staying with us now."

"All right, then," said Ms. Durden, sinking back against her patient's bed. "Glad that's settled. Dr. Rockbell, could you get me my -"

"Your bags?" Winry finished. "That's right, you'll want to make sure you won't be leaving anything behind." In response to her shocked expression, Winry added, "Ed said we'd have _Annaliese_ stay here. Not you."

"But I'm her mother!"

"And Ed's her father. You've had her to yourself all these years. Now it's Ed's turn."

"You can't separate us like this!"

"You were going to be separated during your recovery anyway. And you didn't even care about that until you tried to use her to keep your place here."

"I didn't have a choice!"

"Doesn't matter. We're not keeping you."

* * *

Before Winry left to drop her ex-patient off, Ed took her aside and asked, "Are you sure we're doing the right thing?"

"With what? Turning that woman out?"

Ed nodded.

"You can't really want her to stay."

"I don't, but - I got her _pregnant_ , Winry. It's the least we can do."

"She got _herself_ pregnant, Ed. She didn't give you a choice in the matter. You don't owe her anything."

* * *

Ed had been starting breakfast when he'd overheard the conversation in the surgery room. He'd considered staying upstairs until that woman left, but he wasn't about to let her keep him from going where he wanted in his own home. When she finally did leave, the kids were up and Granny was feeding them the breakfast she'd taken over from him.

Granny's relationship with Ed and Winry had changed some since they'd brought their family to live with her. She had raised them after all their parents had gone, and was used to being their teacher and nurturer. But things came to a head after a few months of living all together. "We know we learned parenting mainly from you," Ed and Winry had told her, "but we do things differently than you sometimes, and our kids need to know we're the ones in charge of them. It's hard to keep that authority when you treat us like kids in front of them."

It had been a tough conversation, but the three of them came to an understanding. Ed and Winry had sole charge of disciplining their children, except when Granny was watching them on her own. If she had advice on how to deal with something, she would tell Ed and Winry in private, and it was up to them whether they'd take it or not. They came up with a shared plan for doing housework, which they carried out and enforced as equals. And aside from the respect due to Pinako as their grandmother and former guardian, that was their relationship now - equals.

As far as the automail business went, Ed wasn't exactly privy to that. To him, the work Granny and Winry did together had barely changed. They hardly disagreed on anything when it came to their patients. But Winry was Granny's partner now, not her assistant. And though they rarely mentioned it, the reason Winry had declined to set up her own shop in Rush Valley was because Granny was having some difficulty keeping up with the family business. How that affected the decisions they made Ed didn't know. Winry had presented and carried out the decision to become a state subsidized care provider, but Ed was sure it was done with Granny's approval. And this decision to discharge their newest patient was probably similar.

But Ed remembered how Granny had stood between him and Mustang when he'd come recruiting, how she'd probed Major Armstrong and even Ed's own father when they'd come visiting, making sure they were doing right by her young charge. She'd brokered his and Al's apprenticeship to Izumi Curtis, buried their mother and the thing they'd made when they tried to bring her back, then helped Ed dig it up and give it a grave. But now Ed was grown, and when the woman who'd violated him revealed he had another daughter, Granny had let him and Winry deal with it while she cooked breakfast in the other room.

Her decision was probably right. Ed couldn't imagine how the conversation would have gone with Granny there to intervene. She probably wouldn't have done anything Winry hadn't. But for the first time he could remember, Ed found himself wishing for a protector.

It was a completely unfamiliar feeling to him. Ed had always been so confident in his ability to take care of himself that even when he had been vulnerable, even when he had needed a protector, he hadn't thought to ask for it. Even after he'd learned how to ask for help, he'd never wanted it. He'd never wanted anyone to come between him and the horrors of the world, just accepted it when they did.

But now he wanted someone else to deal with that woman, because he didn't know how. He'd never wanted to. From the moment he'd woken up inside her, he'd done his best to get away from her and the memory of what she'd done. He'd gone on to defeat the world's greatest monster, and he'd rather face that all over again than face what one woman had done to him on a cold night.

Ed shook such thoughts off. He'd been afraid he wouldn't be able to beat that father homunculus, but he had, hadn't he? So he'd probably be able to work past this too. And he would, because there was a little girl in East City he needed to do right by.

So he helped Granny feed his and Winry's children, then he sat them down and told them, "I'm going to have to leave for a little while."

"Where are you going?" asked Ellen.

"How long?" asked Henry.

Andar squirmed in his place on Ed's lap, and Ed held him closer. "It's just a couple days," he said. "I'm going to pick up your sister in East City."

Henry's face fell into a pout. "You're taking Ellen but not me?"

Ed laughed. "No, no. This is a sister none of you have met yet."

Ellen, who'd had hopes of going on a train ride with Daddy raised and dashed in a matter of seconds, grumped, "I don't want another baby sister."

"She's not a baby. She's . . . eleven? No, she must be ten now."

"She's older than me!" Henry was surprised.

"That's right. And I'm going to East City to get her and then she'll come stay with us."

"How long is she gonna stay?" asked Henry.

"Uh . . ." Ed's eyes flicked to Granny, who raised her brows and shrugged. "I'm not sure."

Annaliese would definitely stay until her mother had recovered from port surgery and gained some use of her new arm. But once those months were over, it was very likely her mother would want to take her home. Ed could hardly imagine spending so much time with one of his children and then letting her be taken away. It would feel like abandoning her all over again. But would he be able to do what was necessary to keep her in his life?

Ed hoped so.


	3. Chapter 3

Ed's train to East City pulled in late that afternoon. He shielded his eyes from the sinking sun as he stepped onto the platform. Things had changed since he'd last been here. Buildings had gone up, businesses had moved, and even the street signs had been changed. But Ed was sure he wouldn't get lost, like he had once when he was thirteen. He pulled a map out of his pocket, figuring how far he'd have to go down 32nd street.

"Need help getting someplace, Mister?"

Ed lowered the map and saw a brown-haired girl in a little burlap dress standing in front of him. "For fifty cenz you can have me as a guide," she added.

Ed smirked. "Is that what the kids in East do these days? Heckle newcomers for spare change?"

She shrugged. "I was just asking."

Ed considered her. She didn't look destitute, but the prouder poor people never did. Still, he figured she wouldn't be hiring herself out for odd jobs if she didn't need the money.

"I haven't been here in years," he told her, "and never to the place I'm headed. You know how to get to Haverden Avenue?"

"Sure do," she said. "Come on, it's this way."

A little excited, she took off at a run, and Ed took quick steps to keep up with her. But as they left the train station, she slowed down, conscientious of losing him. She didn't say much to him as they walked, other than when and where they were turning. He tried to make conversation with her, but he got short answers.

"Do you like hanging around the train station?"

"I guess."

"Do your parents let you do it a lot?"

"My mom doesn't mind."

"You ever go to that soda shop there?"

"Nah."

Not about to give up, Ed asked another question. "Do you get a lot of jobs like this?"

"Not a ton." And to Ed's surprise, she added, "I have to get them before the other kids do."

"So you got competition," he said.

She nodded. "I haven't been doing it as long as the others have. They don't like that I started. Say I'm stealing their jobs."

"Sounds like they give you a hard time."

"Yeah. It doesn't bother me, though."

Ed asked a question that an adult might consider rude, but a child might not mind. "And what do you guys do with the money you make? Give it to your families? Buy candy?"

"I dunno what the others do," she said. "Why are you so nosy?"

Ed shrugged. "I'm just used to asking questions."

"Grown-ups don't ask a lot of questions," she said. "That's what kids do."

"That's not true," said Ed. "Anyone can ask questions. It's only people who don't want to learn anything that don't."

After a moment to consider that, she asked, "So why do you want to learn about me?"

"I dunno. I guess I'm just curious." Ed held out his hand to her. "My name's Ed, by the way. Edward Elric."

The girl stopped walking and gingerly took his hand. "I'm Annaliese."

"Annaliese?" Ed repeated the name for what felt like the thousandth time that day. "Your last name wouldn't happen to be Durden, would it?"

She raised an eyebrow. "It is."

Ed found himself gripping her hand tighter. "You _live_ at 686 Haverden? In number 4B?"

"Yes," she answered, but in a tone that said, _you better tell me what's going on_.

Ed didn't know what to say. What _could_ he say? This was not how he imagined this meeting going at all. "I. Um," he started, and he found himself looking her directly in the eye for the first time. How had he not noticed their eyes were the same color? "You're just the whole reason I came here," he said.

She looked at him warily, glancing at their still-joined hands. "And what's that?" she asked.

"I'm your father."

She didn't answer right away, but her face clearly said you've got to be kidding me. Ed couldn't help but agree. Running into his daughter completely by accident - it was something out of a goddamn romance novel.

"I didn't know I had a father," she finally said.

"I didn't know about you either."

"How did you find out?"

Ed didn't explain the details. He just said he'd run into her mother - also by accident - and that they'd arranged for Annaliese to stay with him while she recovered from port surgery.

"What's that?" she asked.

"Port surgery? You know - for automail?"

"Isn't that for people who've lost their arms and legs?"

The question stopped Ed cold. "Did nobody tell you? Your mom lost her right leg."

"I haven't heard from Mom since Batty made her go to the hospital."

"Batty?"

"Our landlady. She said she didn't want anyone else getting sick, so she made Mom leave. She keeps telling me Mom's dead, but I keep telling her, they would've told us if she died, so she must be getting better." She turned hopeful eyes toward Ed, the most expressive he'd seen her yet. " _Is_ she better?"

Ed told her, "She's not sick anymore. But her right leg got infected so bad they had to cut it off. So now she's getting automail. It'll take awhile for her to get completely back to normal, but she'll be fine."

Annaliese turned away from Ed, but he could see how powerfully relieved she was. He was glad she didn't have to worry anymore. He knew how it felt, to watch your mother waste away right in front of you, and he was glad she didn't have to go through that. But then he realized he was comparing Nora Durden to his own mother, and felt a little sick.

"You really love her, don't you?" he said quietly.

Annaliese turned back to him, and the look on her face made it clear she thought he'd asked a stupid question. But her expression softened as a thought seemed to occur to her. "You don't love her," she realized.

Ed regretted bringing this subject up. "I don't really know her," he hedged.

"So you were a one-night stand, then."

Ed's jaw dropped. Had he really heard that out of a _ten-year-old's_ mouth? But then, it wasn't that uncommon for a ten-year-old to know about sex. He had been even younger when he'd looked up the subject himself. But to talk about it that casually . . .

Annaliese rolled her eyes, clearly unimpressed with Ed's reaction. "I always figured that's what you were, you know. It's not a big deal."

"It is to me," Ed said. "I never wanted to leave any of my kids without a father."

After mulling his comment over for a minute, Annaliese asked, "So you have other kids?"

Now that was a subject Ed was more than happy to talk about. "I sure do!" he said. "Four of them. You wanna see pictures?"

He spent the rest of their walk to her apartment getting Annaliese acquainted with her siblings. She resumed the quietness she had earlier, though she seemed interested in what he was saying. "They're excited to meet you," Ed told her. "Even Andar, though he doesn't really understand what's going on. He's so -"

But Ed was distracted by a woman calling to them from a balcony above. "Annaliese!" she said. "Who's that you've got with you?"

Annaliese called back, "It's my dad!"

"Your dad?" The woman sounded taken aback. "He got any news about your mama?"

"Yeah!" said Annaliese. "She's getting better, just like I told you!"

The woman still seemed skeptical. "You bring him up here right now, all right?"

"Okay!"

As Ed watched the woman turn back inside, he asked Annaliese, "I guess that's Batty?"

"Yep," she said, and she led him into the apartment building. It looked like a modest place, better than most military accommodations Ed had seen, though that wasn't saying much.

Batty's residence was at the top of the first flight of stairs. Annaliese didn't knock, just let herself and Ed in. He hardly had time to take in the homey features, the sun setting in the window, or the smell of dinner cooking before he came to face with Batty the landlady.

She was a round middle-aged woman, with hair all piled on top of her head. She greeted Annaliese, but her eyes were on Ed. Sizing him up, as it were. "So you're Annaliese's father, huh? You got a name?"

"It's Ed. Edward Elric."

She took the hand he offered, shaking it firmly. "Elizabeth Elswick. But most everyone calls me Batty. So you have word of Nora?"

Ed nodded and explained about her amputation. "I can give you the number of the place she's staying at."

"Yes, please. It'd be nice to finally get in touch with her after _two months_. Find out if she plans on coming back."

Ed was surprised. "It's been that long since she was in touch?" He looked at Annaliese. Had she been alone all that time?

Batty gave an affirmative scoff. "Is it any wonder I thought she was dead? And the hospital staff was no help at all. Couldn't even tell me whether they still had her as a patient. And then, no surprise, that bum Peder took off - and where does that leave poor Annaliese?" Batty's eyes flashed toward the girl, seeming to have just remembered she was still in the room. She sighed. "So you're taking her to stay with you?"

"Yes," said Ed. "I live out in the countryside. Risembool."

Batty nodded. "I know the place. Annaliese, why don't you start packing?"

Without a word Annaliese left Batty's apartment. Ed moved as if to follow her, but Batty said, "Wait. Can we talk?"

She offered him tea - or rather, thrust it into his hands while ordering him to sit at the table. Ed decided he rather liked Batty. He'd long been accustomed to her brand of forceful hospitality and frankness. Not to mention that she'd probably gone without two payments on Nora's rent, yet she supported Annaliese. Ed was grateful to her, and he said so.

"Oh, it was nothing. I could never throw a child out on her own. Wouldn't be able to sleep right again."

"Still, it means a lot to me." He tried to compensate her, but she refused.

"You're the one who's a godsend," said Batty. "If you hadn't shown up. . . Well, anyway, I hate to ask this, but - you are _sure_ you're her father? I'd hate for this all to be a mistake."

Ed considered her. It was possible that Nora Durden had lied about Annaliese being his. "She's ten, right?" he asked her.

Batty nodded. "Since November."

The math checked out. "She's mine."

"Well, you do have the same color eyes," said Batty. "Though you don't look old enough to have a ten-year-old."

Ed stopped himself from spitting out some reactionary comment about his height. "I was only sixteen when - when it happened."

Batty said, "Huh. I never took Nora for a cradle robber."

She changed the subject then, and Ed was glad for it.

* * *

Becoming an adult hadn't changed much for Ed. He might have taken on new responsibilities, but he was long since used to the weight of them. If anything, becoming an official adult only made him aware of the childhood he had lost. He knew the look of responsibility in a young face, and relished that he'd kept it out of his little ones' eyes. But he could see it in Annaliese.

He was not prepared for how much that hurt.


End file.
